


sex, drugs, and rock n roll

by queenhomeslice



Series: Punk Rock RegClar [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Bondage, M/M, Marijuana, Oral Sex, The Ramones References, aged-down characters, prince regis lucis caelum, regclar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 19:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30144720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Regis does, finally, pull Clarus off of his cock and keep him off. “Bed,” he moans, and Clarus scrambles up and falls on the mattress face-first.His arms are still tied.
Relationships: Clarus Amicitia/Regis Lucis Caelum
Series: Punk Rock RegClar [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202828
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	sex, drugs, and rock n roll

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> ______  
> "I Wanna Be Sedated" by The Ramones, all credit to the band

_Twenty_ _twenty_ _twenty_ _four hours to go, I_ _wanna_ _be sedated..._

He might as well be sedated. Clarus is blissfully high, the pungent smell of the crumpled-up joint still smoldering in the ashtray wafting through the room. The record skipping every few seconds because Regis has played it so many times. The window open of the prince’s thirtieth-floor bedroom to let the breeze in and the weed out. The hazy fog wrapping itself like a lover around the skyscrapers of Insomnia. The faintest hints of light at the horizon. 

_“Clarus.”_

The young shield smirks against his prince’s skin, nose buried between his legs, soft dark pubic hair tickling his nostrils, sweat and musk invading his senses and rewriting his very brain. He doesn’t move his head, doesn’t even roll his tongue around Regis’ thick length. He just sits there, content, ultimately satisfied on his knees, hands bound behind him with his own bleach-dyed flannel shirt. 

_I can't control my fingers, I can't control my brain, Oh no oh-oh oh-oh..._

But Regis can. _Regis_ can control his own fingers, and he does, carding them through Clarus’ brown hair and scraping his scalp. It feels so good. It feels so good to just _submit_ , to _serve_. Regis tightens his grip and drags his swollen cock from Clarus’ lips, to the tip, and then rams it back in, hitting the back of his shield’s throat, groaning, rasping out unintelligible murmurs. Regis sets a lazy pace, rolling his hips, fucking Clarus’ mouth. Drool leaks out around the prince’s cock and onto the plush, rich carpet below. Neither of them can be bothered to care. Clarus’ own cock is diamond-hard, trapped in the confines of his boxers and baggy, ripped jeans. He doesn’t care. He could come just like this. He half-hopes that he will; but the other half of him hopes that Regis will decide, at the last minute, to yank him up and throw him on the bed and fuck him nice and proper. 

_Nothing to do, nowhere to go, oh, I_ _wanna_ _be sedated_

Nowhere to go. They’d had their fun, earlier, skateboarding with their friends, attending a house party, jamming out with the garage band. The neighbors had called the Crownsguard, and Regis had kissed him senseless just before warping away from the scene at top speed, laughing his ass off. 

Clarus has no choice but to go along with whatever Regis wants to do. He’s helplessly and hopelessly in love. They’d gotten the weed from their usual guy around the corner from the twenty-four-hour market. Regis always pays him extra in hopes that it’ll give the guy a leg-up in life. Clarus just rolls his eyes and calls him a softie, but he smokes it anyway. 

But now. Now, there’s nowhere to go. And Clarus wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than where he is now. 

Regis does, finally, pull Clarus off of his cock and keep him off. “Bed,” he moans, and Clarus scrambles up and falls on the mattress face-first. 

His arms are still tied. 

“Ah fuck,” Regis laughs. “Here love, lemme get that off you.” He fumbles for a ridiculously long time, but finally, the knot on the shirt sleeves comes loose, and Clarus maneuvers himself onto his back, and drags his prince on top of him. 

“C’mere,” he sighs, beckoning Regis down. 

Regis falls happily, kissing Clarus and tasting himself on his shield’s tongue, groaning all the while. He grinds his cock along Clarus’ jeans, then suddenly pulls away with a jerk. 

“You’re still dressed, dude,” Regis says, lips pursed into a cute frown. 

“Yeah well, I was focused on you.” 

“Oh.” 

Clarus laughs, and he pops his fly and shimmies out of both articles of clothing in seconds, flinging them to the floor. He’s been shirtless ever since they got home, but Regis is only naked from the waist down. His faded black t-shirt, ripped in a million places, still hangs loosely on his frame. 

_Hurry, hurry, hurry, before I go insane_

Clarus _will_ go insane if Regis doesn’t start prepping him right the fuck now. “Open me up,” he grunts. His cock aches, and his whole _body_ aches. It’s ridiculous how much he craves his prince inside of him. 

“Yeah,” Regis breathes. He manages to stand on shaky legs and open the top drawer of the bedside table, throwing the bottle of lube and a couple of condoms at his shield. “Fuck, Clare, you’re so hot.” 

“Me,” Clarus scoffs. Unreal. Impossible. Has Regis never looked in a mirror in his life? “You’ve smoked too much.” 

“Naaaaah,” says Regis, climbing back on the bed, giggling as he settles himself between his shield’s thighs. 

_Bam-bam-_ _bambam_ _bambam_ _-bam-_ _bambam_ _, I_ _wanna_ _be sedated,_

and then the record grinds to white noise, the bump of the needle now filling the bedroom with its rhythmic thump. 

“Damn, gotta flip sides,” Regis mutters, even as he’s squirting lube onto his finger and pressing it to Clarus’ furled hole. 

“I swear to the gods, Regis, if you leave me right now to go fool with that damn turntable, I’ll never forgive you.” 

Regis snorts and pushes his finger in to the knuckle, watching in awe as Clarus arches in a beautiful line. “Don’t worry, Joey Ramone himself could walk in the room and I wouldn’t take my eyes off of you.” 

“Great,” Clarus manages, as Regis adds a second finger and begins to scissor him open. 

Soon enough, Regis and Clarus are making their own music, filling the prince’s bedroom with sounds that no one would dare put on a 45”. 


End file.
